harrypotterfanonfandomcom-20200223-history
User blog:Squibstress/Epithalamium - Chapter 44
Title: Epithalamium Author: Squibstress Rating: MA Genre: Drama, romance Warning/s: Explicit sexual situations; teacher-student relationship (of-age); language, violence Published: 23/05/2017 Disclaimer: All characters, settings and other elements from the Harry Potter franchise belong to J. K. Rowling. Chapter Forty-Four "If you were interested in doing what you should about Minerva, you'd have let her alone in the first place." Thorfinn McGonagall was surprised and delighted when his daughter arrived on his doorstep. "Why, Minerva! I didn't expect ye, but I'm awfully glad to see ye." Seeing her bag, he asked, "Are ye come to stay?" "I thought I might for a few days, if it isn't inconvenient," she said. "My plans changed a bit, and I thought I'd take the opportunity to come see you." He pulled her into a tight hug. "And a wonderful surprise it is, too." When she had settled her few things in her old bedroom, she went downstairs to find her father and grandmother sitting in the library enjoying a bit of elf-made wine. She was heartened to see how much better her grandmother looked than the last time she had seen her. As they talked of this and that, Minerva's mind was only half on the conversation. The third time she didn't respond to a question her grandmother had asked, Thorfinn and Morna looked at one another in surprise. Thorfinn leant across the tea table and caught his daughter by the chin, giving it an affectionate shake. "You're a million miles away, lass. Anything ye want to talk about?" he asked. "What? … Oh, I'm sorry, Da. I guess it's just been a busy week, and I haven't quite left it behind yet. What were you asking?" "Your grandmother was asking if you'd given any thought to what you're going to do over the summer holidays." "Oh," Minerva said with a sheepish look at her gran. "I hadn't really thought. I suppose I can just stay at Charity's." "Nonsense!" cried Morna. "Thorfinn, tell her she's to come home at summer holidays." "Of course, Minerva. We'd love ye to come back here over the summer," said Thorfinn. "Unless ye get a better offer, that is," he said with a wink. "Oh, Da," Minerva said. "Of course I'll come back here, at least for a little while. I'll probably need to think about finding a house near the school. It seems as if I'll be staying." "Well, that's wonderful news!" said Thorfinn. "Has Dumbledore asked ye to stay on?" Minerva had to stifle a smile. "Not in so many words, but he did say that he thought my contract would be renewed if I wanted it." "And do you?" asked Morna. "Yes. I've really grown to like teaching." "And what about your research?" asked Thorfinn. "Will ye be able to do any of it while you're at Hogwarts?" "Yes, Da. The contract stipulates that I can use Hogwarts's laboratories for my own research, provided I sign a royalty-sharing agreement." "Ye should have a solicitor look at it before ye sign away your rights," said Thorfinn. "It's not really any different from what I had to sign at Oxford." "All the same," said Thorfinn. "I can have Maxwell have a look at it when the time comes." Maxwell MacLaughlin was Minerva's mother's cousin and had acted as the family solicitor for many years. "All right, Da, thank you," said Minerva, knowing it was easier to give in than to argue this point. Changing the subject, she said, "By the way, I'd like to ask Albus up for dinner one evening this week, if that suits you." "Of course," said Thorfinn. "Any evening ye like." "Thank you." Minerva noticed the look that had passed between her father and grandmother. Later, when she was lying in bed in her old room, Minerva allowed the shock of everything that had happened that day to wash over her. She had been so close to walking away from Albus, to acquiescing to his desire to push her away out of fear. Instead, she had agreed to bind herself to him in a way that she had never really considered or intended. Minerva had never thought much about marriage, at least not in connection with herself. She had never particularly aspired to having a husband or children, preferring to focus on her academic and career interests. When Doug McLaggen had asked her to marry him, she had been taken aback. She had—naïvely, she realised—assumed they would simply go on as they had done, never stopping to consider that he might want more out of their relationship. When he had presented her with his ring and his question, she had been forced to consider for the first time what she wanted from the relationship, and it hadn't been what Doug wanted. And now? She and Albus had never talked about marriage, except as an abstract idea back during their first affair when he had enumerated the many things he couldn't give her but that he seemed to think she should want. Minerva recognised that his proposal had been an act of desperation. And what had her acceptance been? The same, perhaps, she thought. She loved him, of that she was certain. And she wanted to be with him, whatever the circumstances. If the price of having him as her partner was also being his wife, it was one she thought she could happily pay. It would certainly make things less difficult should the Hogwarts governors somehow get wind of their relationship. Any tempest that might arise if and when others discovered their relationship would be considerably lessened if it were discovered that she was the Headmaster's wife rather than his lover. Still, she didn't harbour any illusions that marriage to Albus Dumbledore would be easy. He was a complicated man, and, for all his apparent chivalry, he was a man used to having others do his bidding. She was a woman used to being her own mistress, and it had been her chafing under Griselda Marchbanks's bit that had pushed her back to Hogwarts in the first place. It was just as well, she supposed, that she and Albus would be living apart for the foreseeable future. Merlin knew she loved him with her entire being, but she didn't want to lose herself in being with him. ~oOo~ Albus spent the two days following that eventful afternoon in a state of quiet apprehension. He turned the school mostly over to Filius during that time and spent hours checking the enchantments that protected the castle and its environs, testing and palpating its magic, to reassure himself that all was in order. He brooded over the fact that Tom Riddle had managed to get into the castle undiscovered, and he cursed himself for his lackadaisical attitude towards the several secret passages that existed between Hogwarts and the outside. He had occasionally checked on them during his time as deputy, at Armando's behest, and it had always appeared that they had been forgotten for years. There had never been any physical disturbance nor any sign of magical activity to indicate that anyone had used them, and he and Armando had thought this meant that none of the era's students had discovered them. Stupid. Complacent, he thought now. As he had told Filius, he wasn't quite ready to stop them all up yet. Over its long history, Hogwarts had come under attack or served as a refuge from outside strife on enough occasions to convince him that having more than one way in or out of the castle was prudent. The school was a touchstone in the British wizarding world. In the centuries since its founding, it had come to pass that the majority of witches and wizards from England, Scotland, Wales, and even Ireland had entrusted their children to its care. It was a testament to the fortitude, character, and skills of Heads and teachers past that, in times of uncertainty and unrest, many grown mages looked at Hogwarts as their safe haven and to its guardians as their protectors. I have failed in my trust, Albus thought as he trudged again through the passage behind the fourth-floor mirror, looking for signs of recent use. I have let evil walk right into this place. He was thankful, not for the first time nor the last, that Filius had come to Hogwarts. There was not, Albus thought, a more powerful or skilled Charms master in all of Europe—maybe the world. Filius hid his strength behind a genial demeanour, but there was a core of steel underneath. If anyone could devise stronger enchantments to protect and guard the castle and all its inhabitants, it would be the diminutive man Albus had met all those years ago. And no one, he thought, would defend it more fiercely or ably. From the moment he had learnt of Armando's death—and before, if truth be told—Albus had been formulating a plan. He intended to seek out and engage, if at all possible, not only the best teachers, but the most powerful witches and wizards he could find. The upheavals of the Grindelwald wars, and Albus's growing suspicions about Dark activity even closer to home, had convinced him that Hogwarts needed their power and that he himself needed their allegiance. Allegiance was far easier to secure when one's allies were also one's employees, and especially if they lived with one day in, day out. That had been in the back of his mind when he had urged Armando to hire Julian Meadowes after the retirement he had tried and failed to talk Galatea Merrythought out of. If Julian didn't have quite Galatea's prowess with practical defence, there wasn't a wizard around who knew more about Dark Magic and, Albus thought, who wouldn't necessarily be averse to using it for good, should it come down to it. Meadowes shared Albus's opinion on the importance of intent in determining the ultimate outcome of any spell, and men who thought that way were rare. Julian had also been desperate for work, given his situation—with a foreign-born and magically untrained wife who had been horribly damaged by the recent war, and a young son who was showing no sign of magic—and he was unlikely to find decent employment in the private sector, given his reputation for obsession with what everyone considered evil spells. His gratitude at Albus's intervention in securing him the post at Hogwarts all but ensured that he would be willing to walk through fire for his benefactor. Of course, Albus hoped it would never come to that. And Minerva. She was powerful. Probably the most powerful mage—witch or wizard—he had ever encountered besides himself. More powerful than Gellert, he thought, and probably more powerful than Riddle, although the latter seemed intent on stretching the boundaries of his already-potent magic in ways that Minerva, thank the gods, would not. He shuddered to think what might have come to pass had Minerva McGonagall elected to ally herself with Tom Marvolo Riddle. Albus thought—no, he knew—that Riddle's interest in her all those years ago had run along those lines, and he suspected that his apparent continuing interest was at least in part to prevent her from joining forces with Albus himself. He had frightened and intimidated the boy Riddle had been, but their recent interview had shocked Albus at how much the young man had changed since then. Tom Riddle was no longer afraid of Albus Dumbledore. Why? Talented and powerful though he was, Riddle was still not a match for Albus magically. Albus could fell him with a few strokes of his wand—his duel with Gellert had shown him that he was capable of blasting through even the strongest of protective charms—yet Tom had come right into Albus's territory like a male Horntail challenging a rival for cow's favours. Regardless of why, Albus reminded himself, the question of the moment was how? And more importantly, how to prevent it happening again. Once he had satisfied himself that the secret passages were undisturbed, he applied a glamour and went into Hogsmeade. He spent an afternoon and overnight patrolling the village, looking for signs of Death-Eater activity, and found nothing. The following day, he removed his glamour and trudged down the muddy lane to his brother's pub. He stood at the bar until Aberforth appeared from the back, looking unsurprised to see his elder brother. "Do you have a minute?" asked Albus. Aberforth gave a rough nod and shouted to the three patrons sitting at separate tables, "Oi! I need to take a piss. You lot stay away from the back of my bar—I've got charms that'll lose you your fingers if they touch my liquor or my till. Got it?" The lack of response seemed to reassure him, and he gestured Albus to follow him up the stairs. When they got to the private sitting room, Aberforth said, "Those tossers left the same day they come in, if that's what you want to know. Paid their bill and didn't bother anyone, leastways, not here. If they did anything else, I didn't hear about it, and I would have." "Thank you. I appreciate your keeping an eye out." The brothers looked at one another for a few moments before Aberforth said, "If that's it, I've got a bar to run." "Actually, Abe, there was one other thing I wanted to discuss with you." "Yeah? Well hurry up about it. I was lying about those charms." "I wanted to ask if you would have any objection to my giving Mother's ring to Minerva." Aberforth's eyes narrowed as he peered at his brother. "Pull the other one." "I'm quite serious." Aberforth snorted. "She agreed?" "She did." "She up the duff?" Aberforth asked, one corner of his mouth turning up at the look on his brother's face. Albus's temper flared for a moment, then he tamped it back down almost automatically. This was a dance he had done with his brother many times, and each knew the steps by heart. "No," he said simply. "Silly chit," muttered Aberforth. "Be that as it may," said Albus coolly, "my question remains. May I give the ring to Minerva?" "What the hell are you asking me for?" "The ring belongs to you as much as it does me." "That's a lie," spat Aberforth. "You were the one named in the will—you got everything except my share in the house." "Yes, but you know as well as I do that Mother's intention was that I should use the money to care for you and— to care for you, and that anything else should be divided between us." It was several moments before Aberforth spoke again. "That ring was meant for Ariana." It took all Albus's strength to keep any slivers of his magic from escaping the confines of his body and pinging around the room, as had occasionally happened when he was under great strain as a young man. "Yes," he said. "But she's gone." Aberforth's mouth twitched for just a second, then he said through clenched teeth, "I know that as well as anyone," and Albus knew the contest was over. He had won. What the prize was, however, was something neither of them could have said. "Yes. I know you do," said Albus softly. "And if you don't want me to give the ring to Minerva, I shan't. It can stay in the vault forever, if that's what you want." The brothers glared at one another. It was Aberforth who broke first. He pulled a grey rag from his belt and began to push the dirt around the grimy table with it. "Gah! Go on and give it to her, then, and much good may it do you. If she's smart, she'll toss it right back in yer face, but I reckon she thinks she's in love." "Thank you," said Albus. "I think Mother would be pleased to know it had been passed on." "Mebbe. Any road, I haven't any use for a wedding ring." He gave the table a few more angry swipes. "When you going to marry her?" "We haven't decided yet," said Albus, relieved that the discussion of their mother's ring was apparently finished. "Giving her time to back out, then, are you?" "Don't you think I should?" "Heh. If you were interested in doing what you should about Minerva, you'd have let her alone in the first place." "Very probably." Aberforth tucked the dirty rag back into his belt. "Need to get back to the bar." "Yes," said Albus. As Aberforth passed through the door, he added, "And thank you." He received no reply. Later that afternoon, Albus Apparated to Diagon Alley and went to Gringotts to collect his mother's wedding ring from the Dumbledore family vault, where it had been since his father's imprisonment in Azkaban nearly sixty-six years previously He had to light his wand to see it in the dim light deep in the bowels of the bank's enchanted vaults. The ring was a simple, wide band of yellow gold with a Runic inscription that ran around the outside surface. Albus cast a quick spell to polish it. The inscription on the inner surface was nearly illegible with wear, but Albus knew well enough what it said: P.W.D. to K.B.M. 10 October 1875. He thought he would charm the inscription to replace it with his and Minerva's initials and the date of their wedding, once it was determined. When he had returned to Hogwarts, he owled Minerva at her father's home to enquire when it might be convenient for him to visit. His owl returned the same evening with Minerva's invitation to come to dinner the following evening, and if he were able and so inclined, to spend the night at Castle Isleif. Her father and grandmother would be delighted to see him, she wrote. The next morning, Albus made an apologetic request to Filius to mind the castle for another day or two. He had business in Caithness. ← Back to Chapter 43 On to Chapter 45→ Category:Chapters of Epithalamium